the Stoli Stumble

she grovel when turnips bouy on the stew water surface

refracted somewhere ‘tween meniscus cosmic broth sentients

this is not the Stoli you know from northern noted evenings on photaic planes

she’ll tell your story for a Susan B. Anthony dollar while snoring misfits of the season away

so introduce me. push on with me. help this vision. I’m stuck in the kitchen.

best friends on fences burnin bridges buildin’ shelter for blood cousins, deviants and nymphs

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